


I Want You To Know

by krsive



Category: Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Bottom Morty Smith, C137cest, Consensual Underage Sex, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Love, M/M, PWP Sort of, Smut, Suicide Attempt, Top Rick Sanchez, additional adult situations, more tags to come, posessive rick sanchez, probably
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:21:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24052036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krsive/pseuds/krsive
Summary: Rick and Morty have been pining for each other for so long...but after they give in, what will become of the both of them?
Relationships: Rick Sanchez & Morty Smith, Rick Sanchez/Morty Smith
Comments: 41
Kudos: 359





	1. Chapter 1

Rick leaned against the side of the ship, his flask raised to his lips. His narrowed eyes followed his grandson’s movements where he flitted back and forth, silhouetted in front of an alien sunset. Morty was chasing—and in turn being chased by—a creature that resembled a feathered kite, stumbling through the dune grass as his feet sank into silken sand. A lilac ocean crashed in the background.

It was the boy’s sixteenth birthday.

Rick tipped stinging liquid down his throat in a useless effort to peel his eyes off of Morty. He couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop himself from noticing how the honeyed light turned Morty’s brown curls auburn and the way that his green eyes flashed merrily. The flush of his cheeks. His high, singsong laugh. Rick threw his head back and drained the flask, then nearly chucked it down the dune out of sheer frustration. Oh, yeah. He was drunk enough alright...and not nearly drunk enough.

“Alright, shithead, enough is enough. Stop playing with the stupid stroppy and let’s get the hell out of here. I have sand in my asshole—I need a fucking shower.”

With a reluctant glance at his new friend, Morty nonetheless jogged over to where Rick waited. “Gee, Rick, thanks again f-f-for bringing me here for my b-birthday.” Morty smiled at him like he hung the sun in the sky.

_I want to see you smile like that every day._

Rick rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Get in the ship before I leave you here.” As Morty bounced around to his side and Rick wrenched the driver’s side door open, he raised his voice. “And you—when we get home, you’re vacuuming my seats.”

“Whatever you say, Rick.”

“You sassing—you getting sarcastic with me?”

“Maybe I’m just in a good mood.”

Rick frowned at him as the ship rocketed up through the atmosphere. “Easy to please,” he sniffed.

“I’m going to nap now, rick. Buh-bye.”

“Guess you don’t—you’re not interested in going to see the new Ball Fondlers movie, then, huh?”

“Really?!? I didn’t even know there was one coming out. Aww geez, Rick, thanks.”

Rick reached into his pocket and pulled out three movie tickets. He saw Morty count them, and his heart leapt in his chest—a sick, envious part of him thought that he saw a flicker of disappointment in his grandson’s eyes. _Wishful thinking, old man. What is this, a date?_

“Three tickets, Rick?”

“We’re bringing Summer because she wouldn’t shut the fuck up about it.” He was driving one-handed now, the tickets clutched against the steering wheel and his other hand digging for his phone in his pants pocket. Morty leaned across him and jerked the wheel, steering them out of the way of a car-sized asteroid.

“Geez! Gimme—you’re already drunk, don’t text and drive, too. I’ll do it.”

“Whatever. Tell her we’ll be there in an hour. And tell her to bring the vodka.”

Four hours, one change of clothes, and three flasks later they were walking out of the movie theater. Summer and Morty were talking animatedly about their favorite parts of the movie, leaving Rick alone with his dark thoughts. He was well and truly drunk now, his vision tilting and blurring at any sudden movements. He jerked the driver’s side door open and moved to slide in when he collided with something warm. Morty. His grandson had slipped in to the space in front of the door and was blocking it with his arms outstretched, looking breathless and a little grumpy. He was so close that Rick could smell his skin, salty from the ocean and clean, light. He could see the light sunburn on the bridge of Morty’s nose. Morty never wore enough sunscreen. _I wonder what he would do if I leaned down and kissed him right now._ Would he melt? Would it wipe that frown right off his face? Rick half reached out for the boy before he could stop himself, and his motion to pull back was awkward and jerky but he tried to disguise it by crossing his arms. On the other side of the ship Summer raised one eyebrow, and he frowned back at her.

“No way, Rick. You’re way too drunk to drive. I-I-I’m not letting you, you know, crash into an airplane or something with my sister in the car.”

“I’m getting in the back,” Summer sighed, clearly not interested in whatever argument that the boys were about to have.

“Get in the fucking ship, M-Morty.”

“Give me the keys, Rick.”

“Fuck you. No.”

Morty sat in the driver’s seat and crossed his arms, echoing Rick’s body language. “I’m not moving. S-s-s-so if you w-want to drive you have t-to sit on my l-l-lap.”

Rick groaned in frustration. “Fucking fine! Whatever. Take the stupid keys.” He dug them out of his pocket and threw them at Morty’s chest. He rounded the ship and slumped into the passenger’s seat. It was humiliating to cave so easily in front of Summer, but he was way too drunk for this. He’d get back at Morty for this later.

It was dark outside when Morty finally set the ship down in the driveway, and they all climbed out. In the island of light in front of the door, Rick saw a boy stand up and dust his rear end off from where he had been sitting on the stoop. He felt Morty freeze beside him and then deliberately relax. His head was swimming with the liquor and the still heat of the night, pulsing in time with the buzz of cricket song. All he wanted was to go inside and sink into his cot, and this little jerk was standing in his way.

He lifted his foot and started forward when Summer grabbed his labcoat sleeve and stopped him. She shook her head at him, and he watched Morty hurry over to the stranger. They began a furtive discussion, voices too low for Rick to make out.

“What the fuck, Summer, let go. I want to go to bed.”

“They’re gonna need a minute.”

“Who even is that?”

“He’s Morty’s ex-boyfriend.” She must have noticed Rick’s eyes practically bugging out of his head because she sighed and shook her head. “What? You didn’t know he was gay? I thought you were smart, grandpa Rick. Even dad wasn’t surprised when he came out.”

“When the fuck was that?”

“While you were in prison.”

“Oh.” Rick’s hand shook as he pushed his hair back from his forehead, blowing out a breath. Some memories danced before his blurring vision; concrete rooms with water dripping down from cracked ceilings, the glistening walls reflecting electric discharge from a cattle prod. The narrowed eyes of a huge green alien just before Rick’s fist connected with his face hard enough to break his knuckles. An IV bag drip dripping into his veins, putting a better-living-through-chemistry end to his hunger strike.

“We all just figured he told you when you came back, but that’s about when he broke up with Sam so I guess he was, like, too depressed or something to talk about it.”

“Guess we just don’t talk about ga--about shit like that,” Rick grumbled.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t tell you either if I was Morty. You’re a real dick to him, grandpa Rick. One of these days he’s gonna wise up and you’re going to be S-O-L.”

“Why should I even care about that, Summer. I don’t need him. I don’t need anybody.”

“You can say that all you want. And maybe you even believe it. But you’re going to regret it the day Morty leaves you. And I’m gonna be here to rub it in your face.”

“Uh huh. Whatever. I’ll be in the garage.” Rick, mouth pressed into a thin line, leaned into the ship and grumpily pressed the garage door opener, and went inside without a backward glance, closing it behind him.  
He sat at his work table staring at his flask, clenching the empty thing in white-knuckled fingers. He was growing angrier and angrier, and for once he wanted himself to feel it. _This is your life now, Sanchez. Jealous of a highschooler. You couldn’t be more pathetic if you tried._

***

Morty shuffled from one foot to the other, standing on the front step beside Sam. He kept his gaze on the ground, feeling hazy and stunned. He never thought that his two lives would collide this way—it was why he had broken up with Sam after the destruction of the Citadel and his grandfather’s return home. He just didn’t have space for two in his heart, and Rick would win every time. The only reason Morty had even tried to move on while he was gone was the thought that kept him awake at night, the idea that his life was already over now that Rick was gone. So by chance he had met Sam at the arcade. Sam was from a different high school, and he didn’t know Morty’s terrible reputation--had no cause to think of Morty as a “special needs” child or a blubbering bullied weenie. They had danced around each other for weeks before admitting their shy mutual attraction for each other. Sam had dark black hair and striking blue eyes and he had charmed the hurting, abandoned Morty easily. Morty fell into his orbit, looking to drown his pain in anything, anyone. Now he just felt ashamed of the relationship. He blamed himself for his lack of faith, he blamed himself for using Sam to fill a void he had always known could never be filled.

“What are you doing here?” Morty asked quietly, eyes on the ground.

“I got you a birthday present,” Sam said. There was a spark of hope in his voice and in his eyes as he looked unsteadily at Morty.

He held out a small box wrapped in white paper with little rainbow colored balloons dotting it. The sight of it made Morty feel so, so sad for reasons he couldn’t let himself think about. He stifled a sob and sniffled.

“Sam...y-y-you shouldn’t have.”

“I bought it while we were still together. I thought...” The boy ruffled his own hair and sighed with resignation. “I dunno. I just thought you’d like it.”

“Sam, you’re not...”

“No, I get it. I didn’t really think we could...” But despite his bold words, he scrubbed at his weeping eyes. He looked so bereft, just like he had on the day that Morty had left him, and left him standing all alone at the arcade where they had first met.

“We can’t,” Morty breathed. His heart was squeezing in his chest; he couldn’t take much more of this and wished that Sam hadn’t come over at all. 

“Why, Morty? I...was I really that bad?”

Morty shook his head. Around them the night hummed with heat and life, but in the bubble of porch light Morty felt so cold. “It’s not you. I t-told you that. It’s just...”

“There’s someone else, isn’t there?”

“Yeah. There’s someone else.” Guilt gnawed at his brain stem and he had to look away, covering the gesture by rubbing the back of his neck as casually as he could. His eyes were swimming and he furiously blinked back tears.

“Take the gift anyway. I want you to have it,” he said quietly, turning away almost immediately. His shoulders looked heavy, his head looked heavy. 

Morty took the box. Sam had once been so close, but now the gap between them felt so far. He slipped the gift quickly into his pocket, trying to get it over with, and picked at the hem of his shirt. “I’d better go inside.”

“Yeah. Ok. I’ll see you around, Morty,” Sam said, voice thick, and Morty heard the barely contained warble in his voice. Both of them knew that this would be the last time they saw each other.

“S-s-s-see you around, Sam.”

Morty tried to calm himself down alone, he really did. He cut himself a piece of birthday cake and ate it standing at the counter. The house was so dark and quiet, so lonely, but Morty didn’t bother to turn on the lights. He sat in the living room and flipped listlessly through interdimensional cable. But his heart remained restless, and he found himself gravitating toward the garage. Toward his grandfather.


	2. Chapter 2

Rick took one last step forward, backing Morty all the way against the garage door, and slammed his hand against the wall beside his ear. Morty tried not to jump, despite that his shoulders shot up beside his ears. He felt a sting in the back of his nose that meant he was about to start crying. Rick looked crazed, silhouetted against the fluorescent ceiling light with his face mostly in shadow except for the gleaming of his wild blue eyes.

“W-w-what did I do this time, Rick?” Morty asked, certain that this was all his fault, somehow. Like always.

“Who was that? Hmm, Morty? Who were you just talking to?”

Morty’s brow furrowed in confusion. “S-Sam?” This is all about Sam?

“You’re—you’re dumb enough already without playing _stupid,_ Morty. Yes, Sam,” Rick said, mimicking Morty’s cracking voice, the name being flung back at him.

Morty’s green eyes darted downward. The skin on his neck and face began to prickle with a deep blush, and he couldn’t meet his grandfather’s eyes anymore. “Sam is just a friend from--”

Rick’s fingers tightened on the wall by Morty’s ear, nails making a spine-jangling scrape, and he leaned in closer. “Don’t lie to me Morty. S-Summer told me _exactly_ who that little dirtbag piece of fuck is. I just gave you a chance to be honest with me, _Morty_ , and you-you-you fucking _blew it!_ ”

“I...What d-d-does it matter, Rick?! So what!”

Rick lowered his head and slammed his hand into the wall again, growling. He had tried so hard to keep himself together, to keep his secret inside, but he was losing his composure by inches. He could feel his heart trembling in his chest, fluttering like it wanted to give out. For a moment he wondered if this was it, if he was going to die here right at Morty’s feet. It would be fitting. _All of me is for you._ “So what? So what?” he shrilled uselessly as he slammed his fist into the garage door to punctuate each word. What could he possibly say?

“Y-yeah, R-Rick, so what?” Morty was trembling before him but raising his eyes steadily.

Rick’s breath hitched as he watched Morty’s eyes widen. He wondered what was written on his face to cause that expression. His whole body was shaking. Suddenly he realized that there were tears streaming down his face as one slid into the corner of his mouth. He hadn’t felt them begin to fall; his furious flesh was practically numb.

Morty’s breath was heaving in his chest. Everyone liked to tell him how stupid he was, but he was far from it—especially in terms of emotional awareness. And he could recognize what he saw before him now: desperate, soul-rending jealousy. He could feel memories flying through his mind, recontextualizing themselves. A furtive glance here, a well-timed barb there...it all added up to playground, pigtail-pulling flirting. His grandfather. Flirting with him. Morty’s heart filled up, and now the tears that threatened to spill from his own eyes had nothing to do with fear and everything to do with relief. He was about to get what he had always wanted.

Fumblingly, cautiously, Morty reached out his hand and laid it on Rick’s cheek. Warm, wet tears made the skin slick, and fury had flushed his skin hot. Morty swiped his thumb under Rick’s eye, wiping tears away. With his fingertips under Rick’s jawline, he tipped his grandfather’s face forward and pressed their lips together. For a moment, neither moved, and Morty was beginning to fear that he had read the situation wrong.

But then Rick surged forward, gathering Morty’s face between his palms and devouring his mouth hungrily. He kissed with a ferocity that took Morty’s breath away, left him gasping and struggling to keep up. Breaking them apart to let Morty choke down a few breaths, Rick snarled some furious half-words against his lips before diving back in. He felt Morty’s arms wrap around him weakly as their tongues lashed together, and he felt a sob roll up from his deep stomach and into Morty’s mouth. Angry with himself, he tried to refocus himself by biting Morty’s bottom lip and making him groan. Yes, that was it. Arousal was flaring to blazing life inside of him. He broke away from Morty’s lips with a growl and put his forehead against his grandson’s.

“How fucking dare you,” he breathed, low and dangerous. “How fucking _dare_ you let that little piece of shit touch what is _mine_.”

“I-I d-d-d-didn’t know, Rick,” Morty warbled, his eyes looking desperately into Rick’s. “I-I-I didn’t know you w-wanted me.” Searching his eyes, Morty willed his grandfather to believe him, to forgive him.

Rick felt like he was losing his mind. How long ago could he have had what he wanted? He screamed out in frustration and swept Morty up in his arms, stopping by the door into the house to flick the lock shut before depositing his grandson on the work table, sweeping his inventions out of the way. Morty jumped as he heard the crash of metal and glass clattering to the concrete floor, but Rick didn’t let him think about it for long, capturing his lips again. Morty’s fingers tangled in his hair, keeping him close. Yes. He licked across his grandson’s soft lips, dipping his tongue inside his mouth more slowly this time. Sensuously. Morty moaned into his mouth, and he wrapped his arms around Morty and pulled him forward until their chests were touching, Rick standing between his grandson’s open legs.

“I’m going to make—to make you feel so good,” Rick murmured against his mouth. “I’m going to make you feel so good that you’ll never forget who you fucking belong to ever again.” Rick kissed Morty’s sunburned nose, he scraped his teeth over Morty’s jawline, kissed his jugular, teased his earlobe with the tip of his soft tongue. “I’m going to ruin you, Morty,” he breathed in his ear, and grinned when he felt his grandson shudder.

“P-p-please, R-Rick,” Morty whimpered. He wasn’t sure what he was begging for, the pleasure of the moment driving all coherent thought from his mind, but whatever it was he needed it desperately. There was discomfort in the needing, but it was far outweighed by Morty’s elation. He would have ripped out his own heart and given it to Rick right now without a single flicker of hesitation in this moment.

Morty’s hips rolled without his permission, and his eyes fluttered closed as he breathed through his mounting arousal. Hands shaking, he unconsciously reached forward to touch himself through his jeans, looking for a little relief, but Rick’s hand found his and slammed it back against the table.

“No touching,” Rick growled.

“S-s-s-sorry...”

Rick licked up the salty column of Morty’s throat, savoring the taste of his skin. “Oh yes. I am going to enjoy this,” he murmured darkly. He reached between them and popped open the button of Morty’s jeans with his thumb. As he sucked and bit at Morty’s neck, he worked the boy’s zipper down. “I am going to take you apart piece by piece.”

Morty hummed assent, too nervous to even try to speak.

Rick’s fingers slipped under the waistband of Morty’s pants and boxers and he yanked them down, firmly pulling them down to his knees and letting Morty kick them the rest of the way off. Then he slid his hands up under Morty’s shirt, one arm pulling him close as he brought their lips together. The other hand ran up his grandson’s chest and his thumb flitted over one tiny nipple, persuading it to harden. He licked into Morty’s mouth possessively and rolled his nipple between his fingers, coaxing a moan out of him. The sound was so delicious, it went straight to Rick’s dick and he hungrily pinched the little nub harder.

Morty whimpered into Rick’s mouth. He tightened the muscles in his thighs. By now he was desperate for a release he was beginning to think would never come; but he schooled discipline into his hands by keeping them on Rick, keeping his palms full of Rick’s hot skin and his soft hair, knowing that he had been told not to touch himself and he’d be in a world of trouble if he disobeyed. Rick might even stop this, send him to his room! Morty would do anything, give anything to keep that from happening. The fingers on his nipple were driving him well and truly mad. His arousal felt like molten lava inside of him, his cock hot and twitching between his legs. When Rick’s lips left his, he keened.

“Pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease,” he begged whiningly.

Rick nipped at Morty’s lip one last time. “Don’t come,” he warned before sitting back into his chair.

For a moment Morty was profoundly, maddeningly disappointed, but then Rick’s head was between his legs, and oh, Oh and he was inside his grandfather’s hot, wet mouth and nothing had ever felt that good before! His head lolled back and he groaned from deep in his chest. Rick’s tongue slid up and down his length as his head bobbed, humming enthusiastically and slickly around Morty’s shaft. Morty tangled his fingers in Rick’s hair. By the time he was sliding into Rick’s welcoming throat Morty’s legs were shaking. He couldn’t help the forward stutter of his hips, fucking himself into Rick’s throat. The older man hummed appreciatively around his cock and Morty was emboldened to thrust harder and faster and faster, and he was so close, and…

Rick pulled off of him with a wet popping sound, and he chuckled up at Morty when he whined in confusion.

“Not yet,” Rick tutted.

He stood up, shrugging out of his labcoat as he went, and leaned to reach over Morty’s shoulder and pop open a drawer in one of his tool boxes, retrieving a bottle of lube. He could practically feel Morty’s eyes following it, and he made himself look calm as he put it down beside his grandson’s elbow.

“Rick...why is there lube in the garage?”

“Don’t think about it.”

Quickly, he shrugged out of his shirt and he was working on his belt when Morty reached out his hand and ran his fingers down the thick scar that ran down his right shoulder and ended over his sternum.

“I’ve always wanted to touch them,” Morty breathed. “R-Rick...you’re so...” His eyes flicked up to his grandfather’s shyly. “Beautiful.”

Rick looked down at his tousled grandson, curls sticking to his forehead with sweat and skin radiant with a youthful flush. _You’re the one who’s beautiful,_ he thought, but caught himself beginning to blush and cleared his throat.

“Don’t—don’t be stupid,” he groused, and finished fumbling his belt off. He pushed Morty back onto his elbows, nodding to himself in satisfaction at the picture he cut. “Put your feet up on the table and spread your legs.”

“Aww, geez, Rick. I-I-”

“Morty, do you want to get fucked or not?”

Morty said nothing, but when he put his feet obediently up on the table, Rick laughed.

“That’s what I thought, you little bitch.”

Rick slicked his fingers up and moved forward, standing right up against the table to spare Morty the embarrassment of being stared at; he wanted to look, but there would be time for that when Morty was more comfortable with him. For now he slipped his hand into the darkness between them, and reached out with the other to stroke Morty’s side. His finger traced circles around his warm, soft little entrance, savoring the feeling. Soon enough he would be inside, but he let his head drop back a little, his eyes sliding closed as he just enjoyed the feeling of anticipation.

Morty was feeling anticipation, too. He was so scared of how painful it was going to be, imagining that it would be like a red hot poker entering him. But he also wanted it more than anything, wanted Rick to Hurry Up. More than anything he wanted his grandfather inside him. Which, he realized, was a sick thing to want. But he knew without a doubt that once they were that close, once Rick was inside of him, there would be no going back. Not for either of them. And he wanted that so badly.

“If it hurts, I want you to bear down,” Rick said, startling Morty from his thoughts. “It sounds counterintuitive, but it will help.”

“Got it.”

Then Rick was pushing with a slow but insistent pressure, and Morty’s vision blurred. He heard Rick let out a single, low chuckle. There was a little pain, but the feeling of being invaded was so unbelievably pleasurable that it completely eclipsed the discomfort. Rick’s finger began to move in him, going in and out, getting him used to the sensation. But it wasn’t long before Morty felt the slick slide of a second finger entering him. His erection had begun to flag with his anxiety earlier, but it was swiftly surging back as Rick brushed a secret place inside of him, making him see stars.

Rick bent over him, pressing his lips to his throat. “What a good boy,” he soothed, and Morty whimpered. He experimentally moved his hips, grinding his cock against Rick’s stomach. Rick squeezed his side, and pressed down on Morty’s prostate harder than he had before.

“Riiiiiick, oh god oh god oh god, please!”

“Patience is a virtue, _Morty,_ ” Rick chuckled, but there was more pressure and a third finger invaded Morty.

“Ooooohhhhhhh...”

Morty groaned as Rick began to scissor his fingers. Rick bit at his throat, and then let go of Morty and straightened up. He finished unfastening his pants and let them fall down along with his underwear, kicking them aside. Slowly and carefully he slipped his fingers out of Morty and popped open the little bottle of lube and slicked down his cock. Morty keened when he felt Rick nudging at his entrance. Rick chuckled darkly and settled his hands on Morty’s bony hips. His boy was staring at him with wide, round eyes, whimpering with each exhale.

“Who do you belong to?” Rick asked, starting to press forward oh-so-slowly.

“Rick. Y-y-y-you, R-Rick. Oh god, please please.”

“Bear down, Morty. That’s it. That’s it...” He pressed down on Morty’s hips with his thumbs as he slowly pushed inside, watching Morty’s face with deep, deep hunger. “Grandpa’s good boy,” he cooed.

Rick knew that he was too well endowed for this, that he shouldn’t be fucking Morty the very first time, but he couldn’t have cared any less at this point. The anger was gone, replaced by a ravenous tenderness, but even so he couldn’t have stopped himself from indulging even if he’d wanted to.He definitely didn’t want to stop. He wanted Morty heart, mind, and body. He eased inside of him inch by delicious inch until he was buried to the hilt.

Morty felt so full, so flayed open and exposed. As Rick began to move, he was dragging deliciously across that place deep inside Morty that sent sparks straight up his dick. _I love you. I love you, I love you._

Rick, impatient, picked up his pace and soon he was slamming into Morty as hard and fast as he could, hungrier for his grandson’s body than he had ever been for anyone before. He put his lips beside Morty’s ear, blowing hot breath across his skin.

“Mine. You’re fucking _mine,_ ” he growled, his words punctuated by each thrust.

“Yours,” Morty whimpered. “All yours. Only yours.”

“I’m going to ruin you.” He slammed home, sliding against Morty’s prostate and earning a long, warbling moan. “God, you feel so good. You feel so good, baby, so tight for me.”

“Riiiiiick, I’m so close. I’m so--”

“You wanna come, baby?”

“Yeeeeeesssss, _please,_ Rick!”

“Too fucking bad, Morty!” Rick punctuated his pronouncement with a brutal thrust. “You’ll come when I fucking say you can.”

Morty let out a choked sob, and nodded. Rick nipped at his ear. They understood each other, fluidly.

He set an unforgiving pace, thrusting into Morty while he murmured into his ear. Morty rolled his hips in time, torturing himself by thrusting his cock against Rick’s stomach. They fucked hard and dirty, both sweating, both panting, mouthing at each others’ skin.

“Ahhh, Morty. I’m so close, Morty,” Rick panted, and then groaned from deep in his chest. He slipped his hand between them and began to pump Morty’s cock. He delighted in the strangled sounds that earned. “I wanna feel you come. Come for grandpa.”

Morty bit down hard on his lip as he came to keep from outright screaming. His orgasm rocketed through him from his cock down his shaking legs to his curling toes.

Rick grunted as Morty clenched around him. He pumped the last of Morty’s orgasm out of him, reveling in the heat of it, the sudden wetness across his chest and down his fingers. And then he was coming, too, milking himself into Morty’s body with a few last thrusts before letting himself fall with his full weight onto his grandson’s body. For some time they lay stuck to each other with sweat and jizz, both panting and trembling.

“R-R-Rick,” ventured Morty, low and slow. “I love you.”

Rick stiffened as the words struck him, vulnerable now that his orgasm had torn through him and arousal had flown away. He pulled out of Morty and threw a rag at him to clean up with.

“Get out of here, Morty,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. He was panicking now, fully aware now of what he had done. How he had crossed the one, the only line he had promised himself he never would. “Get—go to your room.”

Morty sat up, frantic fear written plainly across his face. Rick turned away. He couldn’t risk eye contact.

“But Rick--”

“No. Just...just go, Morty. Leave me alone.”

Morty hopped off the table and wiggled into his jeans, tears streaming down his face. What had he done wrong? Just a moment ago he had been more elated than he had ever been in his life, and now he was as low as he had been on the day Rick had left them and turned himself in. His heart was broken. He was confused. He wanted to be close to Rick more than ever, and he was barred. It was even harder to be held at arm’s length now that he had had a taste of what it could be like to come closer. When he hesitated, Rick sighed deeply.

“Go,” he said. And Morty went.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning in Endnotes

For the next few weeks, Rick doggedly avoided Morty. He fled the breakfast table before Morty could be excused, he stayed away from the family’s TV nights, he left Morty alone at night to presumably get plenty of sleep for once.

Meanwhile Rick was falling apart at the seams. He had always been a drunk, but now he was starting the day with more whiskey than coffee and staying up ‘til the sky began to lighten nursing bottle after bottle, pretending to tinker with things in the garage. It was torture looking at the work table every day, remembering watching Morty splayed across it debauched and spread open before him. But he was determined to torment himself. He deserved it. Rick deserved every moment of torment that he could possibly feel. He had taken his own grandson’s virginity. 

_Fucking piece of shit._

He lost his balance for a moment and nearly slid off of his chair and onto the floor, but he righted himself. His fingers were clenched tightly around a photograph, a faded picture of Diane that he kept in the bottom of his tool box. She was kneeling in the garden, holding a sun hat on top of her head against a gust of wind that swept through her golden hair. He smiled bitterly and ran his finger down her cheek.

“I only fall in love with people who are too good for me,” he told her, surprising himself with how loud his voice sounded in the silent garage. “I fucked up, Diane. I fucked up so hard. But it’s going to be the last time.” For a while longer he stared at the photo in the dim light of his desk lamp before setting her aside. She would be all of the note that he left behind; let them try to figure it out. He didn’t care. 

_Morty, I love you. I love you more than you could ever know. I’m doing this for you, baby. You’ll understand someday._

He slipped out of his lab coat, letting it fall over the back of his seat, and rolled up his sleeves. He had pondered endlessly how he would do this and decided against his blaster. He wanted to go slow. He wanted to feel it. Fumbling slightly, he picked up the craft knife he had prepared and stared at it in his hand. For a moment he thought about Beth, how she would find him in the morning when she came to fetch him for breakfast, and it was almost enough to give him pause. Almost. Callously, he shrugged off concern for his daughter and brought the knife to his skin. A shaky inhale, a shaky exhale, and he began to cut.

***  
Up in his room, Morty was sitting in the dim light of his own desk lamp. He was turning Sam’s birthday present over and over in his hand, the paper still wrapped tightly around it but beginning to fray at the corners. He couldn’t bring himself to open it. It would make their parting too real. Morty couldn’t love Sam the way he wanted him to, but that didn’t mean that he didn’t care. He only wished that there was some way they could stay in each others’ lives. Sam had made him smile during a time in his life when he had thought he would never smile again. That made him deserving of more than Morty could give him. 

He sighed and put it back down on his nightstand and flopped back into his bed, giving himself a moment to truly feel the comfort of his blankets and to consider sleep. Lately he’d been getting even less sleep than he ever had when Rick was pulling him out of bed nightly for adventures. He would toss and turn until the sun crept up and make his exhausted way to school and back. He probably should have been wallowing in shame over what he and Rick had done, but he just didn’t feel shameful or guilty. No, what he was tortured by was his own love--and his stupid mouth for choosing to confess it, earning his banishment. _Of course_ he should have known it was just about the sex for Rick. Looking back on it he could only curse himself for a moron for thinking anything different.

Morty pushed himself back up, sighing miserably. He couldn’t even persuade himself to close his eyes, much less to actually try and sleep. His feet were cold and his chest was warm; he was restless. He got up and padded back and forth across the carpet for a while, murmuring to himself as he thought. This was unsustainable and he refused to do it anymore. He felt his fists curl into tight balls, shaking at his sides. Rick didn’t get to do this to him. Ok, so he shouldn’t have tried to force “the L word” on him, but that didn’t mean that Morty was obligated to pretend that nothing had ever happened. It didn’t take him long to work himself up into a lather. Nobody was going to fight for his rights but himself, and there was no time but the present. Before he could talk himself out of it he marched out of his room and across the hall to Rick’s bedroom door.

He knocked, but it was unlatched and swung in slightly. The garage, then. Chewing on the inside of his cheek to keep his choler up he made his way downstairs and through the darkened house. The garage door was unlocked when he tried the knob and, with a shaky breath and a count of three, he let himself in.

For a long moment he couldn’t understand what he was seeing. He scanned the room at eye level and saw no one, but he heard an otherworldly groan and his gaze fell to the floor and…

“ _No_ ,” he gasped, an unbidden, ugly utterance. 

Rick lay against the cupboards, arms drawn up into his lap. His hands were white and gnarled into twisted claws, his shirt soaked with slick, dark blood. A sheen of sickly sweat stood out on his brow. His fever-bright eyes were turned up towards Morty, a stricken expression marring his features.

“Morty,” he rasped, panic rising up in his throat like bile. “What...what…” Nothing in his mind was working. It was all just whiteness, empty and vast all around him. The only thing he could see was Morty. A sob enveloped him, and then another, and soon he was shaking with the full force of his tears.

“No, no, Rick, _no_ ,” Morty said, diving to his knees onto the cold floor in front of his grandfather. His hands hovered over him, unsure. What was he supposed to do? Put pressure on the wounds, right? His eyes lost focus and filled with tears. Then there was a warmth on his face and he blinked hard, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. Rick was cupping his face in one twisted hand, smearing blood on his skin.

“Let me go, Morty,” he choked out, trying to smile. “Let me go.”

“Never, Rick. I’m g-g-g-gonna fix this. I’m gonna…” he cast about himself, his mind whirling. What was he supposed to do? He had to calm down, had to think.

“Listen to me, Morty. Shh, baby, listen to me.” Rick pressed his eyes closed and shuddered. He was starting to feel cold from his shoulders to his fingertips. Good. “You’re gonna be free now, Morty.”

“I don’t want to be free, Rick, I just want _you_.” He shook his head and mewled into Rick’s palm. “I’m sorry. I’m-I’m-I’m really sorry and we never have to do it again just p-please be ok.”

“I need you to know-- _fuck_ , that hurts--I want you to know I love you, Morty. You made me h-happy.”

“Aww, geez, Rick. Oh geez, oh my god.” Morty cast about himself in a panic. He didn’t know how far Rick was gone, which meant that he didn’t know if he’d survive the wait for an ambulance. 

“It was always you,” Rick was murmuring, though Morty didn’t know which of them he was truly talking to. He drew back his hand in exhaustion.

_The portal gun_. Of course! Morty was pretty proficient with it by now, after their years of adventures. He knew by heart the coordinates of Rick’s favorite alien hospital--his grandfather had made him memorize it in case of emergency. He jumped up and looked around until he saw what he was looking for--the labcoat, wadded up and discarded on the workbench. He dove for it, dug into the pocket and, triumphant, retrieved the portal gun and held it up to the light. 

Rick sat up as straight as he could. “What are you doing there, Morty,” he asked, panicked. He could barely see, but it didn’t take a genius to realize what his grandson was up to. “Stop. Stop that--please, Morty, just _stop._ ”

“It’s ok, Rick,” Morty assured him in a shaking voice. “This time, I’m going to save _you._ ” 

He finished punching in the coordinates and shot a portal under Rick, jumping in after him. There was stunned silence for a moment at the triage desk as a cornucopia of rainbow hued aliens stared at the two men who had appeared out of thin air. Then there was a flurry of motion as nurses rushed to Rick’s side and hoisted him into a gurney.

“Morty! Morty! No, get the fuck off me, you--Morty!” Rick, eyes wide and bright, looked out between two blue bodies at Morty. “Don’t do this to me, Morty!”

“Don’t do this to me, Rick,” Morty murmured to himself, sinking back against the triage desk. The skin of his cheek felt tight and sticky with drying blood. It made him want to vomit. He couldn’t believe this was happening--he felt like he was watching his body from the outside. This couldn’t be happening. Any moment now he would wake up in his own bed and it would turn out to be a horrific nightmare. It would fade, he would forget, and everything would go back to normal. He closed his eyes tightly as he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder, and then sighed heavily. No way he could believe his own attempt at self-delusion even for a second. Not with the stench of Rick’s blood in his nostrils. He turned toward the kind nurse beside him and let her steer him to the admission paperwork, resigned to this new ghastly reality.

***

Rick’s eyes fluttered open and he squinted against the fluorescent ceiling light. It didn’t take any time at all to remember where he was, even through the pleasant haze of his pain medication. He went to push his hair back from where it was tickling his ear, but he reached the end of a tether with a jangle of metal against metal. Of-fucking-course he would be handcuffed to the hospital bed. 

“Whoever’s there has about ten seconds to let me out of these fucking things or I swear to god,” he called out, beginning to look around.

“There’s n-n-no one here b-but me, Rick,” came a quiet answer, and it made Rick freeze from the inside out.

“Morty.” His voice was hesitant, stiff.

“Rick.” Morty’s voice was wavering, unsure.

They stared at each other for a long time. Morty’s face was clean now, but his shirt was bloody and it made Rick so ashamed just to see that sad little detail. He should have locked the door. He should have thrown Morty on the Citadel first with nothing but a ticket home just to make sure that Morty never had to see him like that. The empty look in his grandson’s jade eyes would be written in his mind forever. He groaned with the sheer frustration of being tied down to his bed. His body pulsed with a nervous energy that he could do nothing with. 

“Let’s just get out of here,” he begged. Apparently he wasn’t above begging, now, that was just a great discovery. 

“We’re not getting out of here, Rick. You’re going to stay a-a-and get a hold of yourself.” Rick could see the script rolling itself through Morty’s mind; he must have rehearsed this. “If I bring you home now you’ll, you know, just do it again.”

“No I won’t!” He pulled uselessly against his bindings.

“I can’t chance it, Rick.”

“Morty! Let me out of here, Morty!” He grimaced, pulling at his chains once again. “I swear to god, Morty, when I get out of here I’m gonna kick your ass so hard--”

“I know. I know you’ll probably never want to speak to me again. B-b-but it will be worth it if, if you just stay alive. So...I’ll be back to visit. And when the doctor’s say you’re ready, I’ll take you home.”

Rick laughed humorlessly. “I’ll just figure out my own way home, you little _idiot._ You think some rundown little hospital can hold me?”

“If you show up at home before I bring you, I’ll tell mom what happened.”

That made Rick take notice. He froze up, thinking. “Which--”

“Both.”

“Bullshit.”

“Try me,” Morty said with a practiced, casual shrug. “I’m willing to sell myself out for your life.”

Rick groaned in sheer frustration, his hackles well and truly up by now. “I’ll just ditch earth, then, did you ever think about that? Hmm? You think I’m tethered to that shitty little house on your shitty little planet?”

“Yeah, Rick, I did think of that. And you know what? I don’t think you’re going to leave. You know why, Rick?”

Rick pressed his lips into a thin line and stubbornly looked away from Morty.

“Because now I know how you feel,” Morty continued. He came closer, and Rick tensed as he leaned over his bed. “Now we _both_ know how we _both_ feel. We’re made for each other, Rick. I-I-I really believe that now. I had a lot of time to think while they were fixing you up, Rick. And I think you’re just as addicted to me as I am to you.”

“Fuck off, Morty.” 

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” Gently, Morty swept the hair off of his grandfather’s forehead and placed a soft kiss there. “I love you, Rick. I’ll be back soon to visit you.”

Rick watched Morty leave with a sinking heart. He felt more alone now than he had when he was bleeding out on the garage floor. The boy was right. He could run, maybe. Maybe even stay away for a while. But he would always be pulled in by Morty’s gravity. Rather than the boy being ruined, Morty had ruined _him_. He could never get away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: Suicide Attempt


	4. Chapter 4

Rick paced up and down the plush red carpet, keeping his eyes stubbornly off of the therapist they had paired him with. She was pretty, light pink with green speckles dotting her forehead and scalp. In another lifetime he would have seduced her by now. He couldn’t even pretend that was what he wanted anymore, though.

“Rick, you don’t have to keep it inside. I can see that you’re angry.” She tapped her stylus against the tablet she was holding. “I can promise full confidentiality, as I’ve said before. What do you have to lose?”

“That’s not the point,” he gritted out, surprising himself. He hadn’t meant to speak--in fact, they were the first words he had spoken since their session began twenty minutes ago. 

“Then what is?” she asked eagerly, pressing him.

He groaned and pressed his fists to his temples. “Therapy is about the stupidest use of my time that could--I don’t respect therapy,” he said. His pacing quickened.

“I choose to respect your opinion, Mr. Sanchez, but ultimately I’m the one who makes the recommendation to release you from the ward, and I can’t make that recommendation until you talk to me.”

Her words wormed themselves into his mind. He had been trapped in this place for two weeks now and captivity was chafing him badly. The walls were closing in on him, getting smaller with every tick of the clock day and night. He ran both of his hands through his greying hair, pushing it back from his forehead.

“Fine.”

“Thank you. I do _want_ to get you back home, Rick. That’s my ultimate goal. You just have to work with me.”

“I said ‘fine,’ Jesus Christ.”

“Well, if you’re ready to talk, then why don’t we just jump in the deep end?” She shifted in her seat, poising her stylus to take notes. “Why did you try to kill yourself?”

Absolute frustration writhed inside of him. It was below him to debase himself like this, wasn’t it? Yet he didn’t see any other way. 

“Because I fucked my underage grandson.”

Her face remained placid and unreadable. “The same grandson who has been visiting you every day?“

“The one and only.” He snorted with cold amusement.

“And you feel guilty about it?”

“Duh-doi. It’s pretty fucked up, doc.”

She smiled up at him gently. “That’s a very planetary mindset, Rick.”

He stopped in his tracks to really look at her. She didn’t look aghast or disgusted. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I’ve talked with patients from all around the galaxy. I think you’ll find me hard to rattle. And your grandson--what’s his name again?”

“Morty.”

“Morty. It seems like Morty, rather than being put off by your encounter, has a great deal of affection for you.”

He snorted. “What does he know?”

“Was the sex consensual?”

“The fact that you have to ask me that is the whole fucking problem.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’ If that’s the case, then it sounds like he knows his own mind better than you think.”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to sit there and insult your patients, doc.”

“You’re deflecting.”

“You can go fuck yourself.”

“Hmm. If you don’t think he knows what he wants, then do you really consider the sex to be consensual?”

“There you go you fucking--that’s the point, isn’t it? Morty’s just a kid. He doesn’t know any better, and here I am just taking advantage of that like the old shitbag that I am. Because that’s just what I do. I take what I want and fuck what anyone else thinks.”

“Except this time you actually do care about somebody else, or else you wouldn’t be in here. Is it Morty whose opinion matters to you?”

Rick closed his eyes and breathed out through his nose. “Yes.”

***

Morty sat up in bed as Summer shouldered her way into his doorway. She crossed her arms and leaned against the door frame. 

“So where is grandpa Rick really?” she asked, cutting to the chase.

“I d-d-don’t know what you’re talking about,” he answered, cursing the obvious nervousness in his voice. 

“He’s never been gone this long before. Three weeks is totally way too long to be holed up in some alien brothel or something.” She narrowed her eyes at him pointedly. “Plus you’ve been disappearing at school a lot still. Like I wouldn’t notice, dumbass.”

“I...uh...geez, Summer, I don’t know…” It wasn’t a denial, but a plea to be let off the hook.

“You and grandpa Rick think your secrets are so secret,” she said, wiggling her fingers and rolling her eyes. “You’re both, like, so obvious it’s not even funny.” She slipped the rest of the way into the room, flicking off the light and closing the door behind her. “You can tell me what’s really going on, little bro.”

“No, I really can’t, Summer.”

This is about your stupid crushes on each other, isn’t it?”

Morty pushed himself back against his headboard, spluttering. “I-I-I-I…”

“Like I said, you’re both obvious as hell. So did you scare him away? ‘Cause I’m gonna be real pissed off if he’s not coming back because you asked him to be your boyfriend or some shit. Plus mom is already losing her mind.”

“I…” Morty put his head down on his knees that he had drawn up to his chest. His hands felt so cold but he was burning up on the inside. “I promised I wouldn’t tell. B-b-b-but he’s coming back.”

“Yeah, well, you better be right.”

She turned to leave, but Morty spoke up. “How did you know?”

Summer snorted. “Considering how you’re both, like, constantly making googly eyes at each other I can’t believe mom and dad haven’t caught on yet. Well, not dad. But mom definitely is in denial.”

Morty sighed, feeling heavier instead of lighter as the air left him. “Yeah. Thanks, Summer.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG you guys are amazing!!!! 100 Kudos when I woke up today. Here's the final chapter! I hope you guys enjoy!!!!

A portal opened in Rick’s room, and he sat up in his bed. Life had been a little more bearable since he’d gotten into a fistfight with his roommate and been stuck in this cushy single-occupancy room. But the green glow cut through the darkness and blinded his eyes, heralding the beginning of a bad night, he was sure. 

Of course, a moment later Morty stepped through. He took a moment to look around and make sure they were alone before settling his eyes on his grandfather. Rick shuffled uncomfortably from side to side. It felt awkward to be caught out in bed wearing the scrubs that they had given him to sleep in and, he was sure, looking vulnerable.

“You’re getting bold,” he said, and Morty nodded his head slowly.

“I figured i-i-if I d-did this, then you c-couldn’t ignore me anymore. You h-haven’t said a single word to me whenever I visit.”

Rick opened his palms and held them out, gesturing all around himself. “Good job, you little asswipe, you got me all to yourself. What now?” He watched Morty ball his fists up and he felt a mix of shame and triumph that made him sick to his stomach. 

“I can’t take this anymore, Rick!” Morty clutched at his chest. His voice was coming out louder than he had intended, cracking against his will. “I’ve visited you for three straight weeks and you h-haven’t said a single word to me! How--how long are you going to just pretend I’m not here?”

Rick stood up, marching straight up to Morty and towering over him, using his height to his advantage. “What is it that you think you want out of this, Morty?”

Instead of answering, Morty laid a tentative hand on Rick’s chest. Rick recoiled as if he’d been slapped, but Morty’s hands shot out and caught him around the waist, keeping him from escaping.

“I want you,” he said. “And you want me. I don’t see--I don’t get what the bfd is, Rick.”

Rick blanched. “Where do you want me to start? Oh, how about the fact that you’re fucking underage, Morty? Or maybe the part where--how you’re my _grandson_?” Morty flinched, and Rick put his hands on his shoulders, squeezing tightly with his fingers. “Oh, you liked that one, did you? Yeah, that’s right. Your mother is my fucking _daughter_ , Morty.”

“I don’t care!” Morty shouted back angrily. He wrapped his arms around Rick’s waist, pulling him closer. “I d-don’t care, s-s-so why do you, Rick?”

Rick tried to push away, but Morty held him tight. A strange noise bubbled up in Rick’s throat. It was so hard not to crumple into Morty’s embrace. “You little idiot,” he whispered. He was teetering on the edge.

“ _What is it, Rick?!_ ” 

“I’m supposed to be the one who keeps you safe!” he burst out, balking as the words left a bad taste across his tongue. “From the multiverse. _From me_.”

Morty pressed his cheek to Rick’s chest and he just couldn’t take it anymore. He nuzzled into Morty’s hair, his arms coming up to hold the boy close. 

“The only way you could ever hurt me is if you went away from me, Rick,” Morty murmured lovingly. Rick thought he could hear the tears in Morty’s voice, but he didn’t want to pull back and look. He couldn’t stand when he made Morty cry.

“Morty…” Rick’s voice was broken, so openly broken and raw that he was immediately flooded with shame at the sound. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Morty murmured softly, soothingly. He looked up at Rick, locking eyes. He was crying unashamedly, tears sparkling in the dim light of the room.

“Morty,” Rick repeated, the name a prayer on his lips. They were inches apart, arms wrapped around each other. Love hummed in the air all around them. Rick’s heart felt liquid and golden inside of him, scalding hot. All of the strength had left him and he sagged against his grandson. “Give me the portal gun, Morty.”

Morty hesitated, but eventually he reached into his back pocket where he had hitched the portal gun and handed it to Rick. When Rick pulled away from him he whimpered and reached out to grab at his grandfather’s shirt. Rick twisted the knob on the machine and shot a portal behind Morty, and backed him through it, hands on his waist. Morty was surprised to emerge from the portal in his own family bathroom, eyes half closing to cut down the sudden bright overhead light.

Finally, tremblingly, Rick laid his hand against Morty’s cheek. “You win, ok? _You win_.” His thumb brushed over his grandson’s soft, pouty lips. “I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Any answer would have broken Rick, and Morty seemed to know that because instead of saying a single word he just rolled up onto his toes and kissed him. The kiss was soft but unyielding, deep yet gentle. His arms closed firmly around Rick, and Rick held him in return, sliding his fingers through his curls. Time spun away from Rick as they stood there, tongues sliding together, little noises rumbling in their throats. They broke apart, both panting for a long moment before Rick stepped away.

For a few moments Rick let him stand in a puddle of his own confusion while he turned on the shower--which must have been cold, because it produced no steam--and flicked the door lock closed. He grabbed a tub of coconut oil off of the counter for good measure.. 

“Take off your clothes,” Rick instructed in a voice that brooked no argument, and Morty quickly obeyed. 

It was embarrassing standing naked in front of grandfather, who was fully clothed, and Morty instinctively covered himself with his hands. Rick strode up to him and knocked his hands away. 

“I want to see you,” he said, his husky voice low. “God, you’re so gorgeous, Morty.”

“Aww, geez, Rick. I’m feeling real exposed here,” he answered nervously.

Rick laughed quietly. “It’s about to get a lot worse, Morty. Turn around now.” 

Rick took off his shirt while Morty obeyed him, turning to come face to face with himself in the full length mirror hanging on the back of the bathroom door. His eyes widened as he looked at his reflection, understanding beginning to dawn on him. He began to turn back around towards Rick.

Rick stepped out of his pants and caught Morty around the waist. “Ah ah ah.” His hand slid up Morty’s body, pulling him to himself firmly with his back against his chest. For a moment his eyes fluttered from the pleasure of the contact, and he nudged his hips forward a few times, seeking the friction of Morty’s body. “I’m still in charge here.” 

He reached around and took Morty’s length in his calloused fingers, beginning to pump it slowly, adding a swivel of his wrist at the top of each stroke. In the mirror he watched Morty bite his lip and begin to flush pink. It was a delicious look on him. Rick drank it in, delighting in every panted breath, in every bead of sweat that stood out on his grandson’s forehead. 

“You’re perfect, Morty,” Rick whispered beside Morty’s ear, his voice rumbling in his chest against Morty’s smooth back. “Let me watch you touch yourself.” With a last caress he let go of Morty’s cock and guided his right hand to grip himself firmly. He kissed the top of the boy’s head and nuzzled into his curls, taking a few languid moments to watch Morty turn from a humiliated bundle of nerves into a shuddering puddle of arousal. “That’s it. Show grandpa how you like to be touched.”

“Hnng,” Morty whined, his hand gaining speed, his thumb flicking over the sensitive glans, swiping precome over his fingers and up and down his length. He breathed in Rick’s intoxicating scent--sharp liquor and motor oil and a soft, velvety musk.

“Shit, Morty, that’s so hot…” He bent down to retrieve the coconut oil, applying some liberally to his own fingers and his cock. He smirked when Morty gasped in anticipation of what was coming. “You going to be a good boy for me? You want this so bad, don’t you Morty?”

“Yes,” the boy whimpered.

“Let me make you come,” Rick soothed to him, using his clean hand to brush Morty’s hair back from his sweaty forehead. “Let me make you feel good.” 

As he hushed and pacified Morty he slid two fingers into him. Immediately he crooked his fingers, pressing firmly against the boy’s prostate and he cried out. Rick watched his eyes fly open and his mouth clamp close. He nipped at Morty’s ear. “No, baby, I want to hear you.” 

“I...I’m g-g-getting close, R-Rick,” Morty stammered. His legs were shaking and he was making high keening sounds that he couldn’t hold in. Vaguely he hoped that no one in the house could hear him, but the thought was getting farther and farther away as Rick expertly pumped his fingers in and out of him, alternating brushes at his prostate with slow, wide scissoring motions.

Rick’s face was buried in the crook of Morty’s neck, and he licked a long stripe along the pulsing vein, thrilling with the life thrumming under his tongue. “Then come for me, baby.”

Morty’s whole body tightened at the words, and he groaned with sheer relief as he spilled on the floor, stroking himself until the last bead of liquid was milked from his body.

But Rick wasn’t finished with him. He kept raking his fingers over Morty’s prostate, wringing a series of panicked moans from his lips as he touched the overly sensitive spot.

“R-R-Rick I c-c-c-c-can’t…” 

“Shh, baby, yes you can. You can do this.”

Rick kept moving his fingers, brushing Morty’s prostate fleetingly and then focusing on stretching him with gentle but insistent strokes in a rhythmic cycle. He hummed tunelessly to him, lips buzzing against Morty’s skin until the boy was moaning in long, ululating utterances again, erection standing hot and red between his thighs. 

“Put your hands on the door and bend over,” Rick instructed, and when Morty obeyed he lined himself up with the boy’s entrance and pushed himself inside, going slow. He groaned unashamedly as he watched himself disappear inside his lover’s body inch by delicious inch, the glide sweet and silken. His hole was hot and clenching around him. “So good for me, baby. _God_ , you’re so tight.” Rick moaned. He began to move, to thrust in and out with tender slowness.

Morty’s legs threatened to go out from under him, and Rick caught him by the hips, strong arms holding him up on his tiptoes.

“Oh my god, Rick.” Morty was nearly sobbing, oversensitive and utterly debauched. His head drooped. He could feel sweat dripping down his neck, an insistent tickle. Focusing on it helped a little, helped him stand the tender pleasure that Rick was fucking into him.

That was, it did until Rick gripped a handful of his hair and tilted his head back. His eyelids fluttered and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Flushing even redder than he already was he began to close his eyes again when the hand in his hair tightened painfully.

“Look at me, Morty,” Rick commanded.

Rick’s face was red, his hair disheveled. His ropy muscles rippled with every thrust. But what Morty really noticed were his eyes, half-lidded but glinting deep inside with wild intensity. He caught his gaze and held it in a way that he never had before, maintaining electrifying eye contact. His eyes were possessive, hungry, yes, but...undeniably, through it all, Morty saw a gentleness that could only be called love. He was gazing at him like he was trying to memorize every detail of Morty’s face. And there was a tinge of desperation to his expression, a ghost of fear--fear of being left behind, perhaps.

“ _I’m_ the one who belongs to _you_ , Morty. Look--Look at me. I’m yours, Morty. Rick and Morty a--a hundred years. _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, his face screwing up for a moment with pleasure. 

“Rick…” Morty whimpered quietly, his body and mind overwhelmed. His cock was twitching with need, and his heart was slamming against his chest.

“I want to hear you, Morty,” Rick growled, maintaining eye contact as his thrusts began to quicken.

“But--”

“I don’t care, Morty.” Rick angled his hips experimentally until he found the spot inside of Morty that had him howling in pleasure.

“Let them all hear, Morty. I don’t give a shit anymore.” He thrust into him brutally, making Morty sob in pleasure. The boy’s entire body was shaking and it stoked the furnace of lust inside of his belly. His orgasm was growing, coiled so tightly in the pit of his belly that he knew it would spring at any moment. “You’re mine and I’m yours and no one else matters.”

“C-c-c-can I come again, Rick?” Morty begged.

“Yeah, baby. What a good boy, asking permission. God, you’re so tight--yeah, baby, come for me now.”

Morty cried out and came, splattering the mirror, and Rick was close behind him, losing it as soon as Morty began to clench around him. Rick barely had time to pull out before Morty’s legs completely gave out from beneath him. Rick was barely able to hold him upright, and together they both sank down to the floor, Rick sitting with his legs crossed and holding a pool of melting Morty in his arms. He placed kisses all over his shoulder, his neck. He licked the shell of his ear and kissed him on the cheek delicately. 

“I love you so much, Morty,” he whispered. He wondered if his heart would always tremble within him every time he said it for forever and forever and a hundred years.

“I love you, Rick. I-I’m always gonna love you.”

They sat that way, their hearts beating in time, their skin stuck together with sweat. Rick leaned his forehead against Morty’s sweat-plastered curls. 

“I’m going to hell for this,” he sighed, resigned. His arms tightened around Morty’s waist.

“You were already going to h-hell, Rick,” Morty said, a hint of laughter in his voice. “A-a-and it’s ok, ‘cause I-I’ll be there with you.”

“Then I guess it won’t be so bad.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking out my first ever fic! Don't worry--the smut is coming up shortly.


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